Edward had been raised for this, his manners shaped and molded ever since he was born.

He was an amazing butler — the best of the best, as many had said over the years. Polite to a fault, efficient beyond compare, and almost impossibly observant. He didn't just serve; he anticipated. Everything from the exact temperature of bathwater to the smallest flicker of emotion in a guest's expression — Edward noticed it all, and acted accordingly, often before a single word had been uttered.

He had served many families in his time. Grand estates with long histories, aristocrats with louder names than manners, and households full of bustle and tradition. But never had he served just one man.

Until now.

The young master was the one person he was taking care of at the moment, ever since he had decided to leave behind the ancestral family estate. Seeking independence — or at least the illusion of it — the young master had moved into what was still a rather grand home. Not quite a mansion, but certainly not modest. And of course, he'd brought a personal butler along. One didn't abandon all luxury, after all.

Edward had adjusted to the new arrangement with quiet efficiency. He was used to large households with staff hierarchies and tightly coordinated schedules, but this smaller, more intimate setting had its own rhythm. A new routine had formed between them, simple yet comfortable.

He let the young master wake up on his own. Edward had learned very quickly that he was not to be disturbed before he was ready. Attempts to wake him — no matter how gentle — were met with an impressively creative barrage of muffled groans, all while still wrapped in the sheets.

So Edward waited.

He had already prepared a full English breakfast, just the way the young master liked it. The sausages were perfectly browned, the eggs cooked to soft, golden perfection. Toasted bread, grilled tomatoes, and a delicate cup of his favourite tea — steeped exactly four minutes — all sat arranged neatly under silver covers, ready and waiting on the dining table.

For now, Edward sat on the lavish couch in front of the grand fireplace, the morning light spilling in through the tall windows. He was reading the newspaper with his reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, an expression of serene concentration on his face.

The young master's cat — a spoiled, long-haired thing with impossibly clean fur and a regal air — had taken up residence on Edward's lap. The animal had sauntered over, leapt up without asking, and curled up in a warm, purring ball. Edward, ever the gentleman, didn't have the heart to tell the little prince to shoo. He merely adjusted his posture so as not to disturb him.

It was a quiet moment — peaceful, domestic, almost ordinary in its stillness.

Then, movement. Edward's eyes lifted above the rim of his glasses the moment he caught sight of the young master descending the stairs. He straightened up, subtly adjusting his posture with practiced grace, the newspaper folding itself away as if by magic.

"Good morning, young master," he said smoothly, his voice clear and elegant, effortlessly filling the large space.